It had already been a long day on the reserve. The rumor mill was chucking away as it always did. The article in the newspaper was just... it still had her on edge. And it was one of the main reasons she'd locked up her office early and was occupying the library with a stack of books on beings and mythological creatures in front of her. On top of that, she had her laptop open with a spreadsheet of notes and questions and details all in nice organized lists just to the left of her.
Was it hidden well? No. But if anyone asked—which she didn't figure they would—she'd just tell them she was curious on the boundaries of beings and crossbreeds.
This had all started basically an hour ago and she was only minutely closer to the ending she wanted to be at. Which meant she wasn't getting far. No matter what research she did, she seemed to be coming up on the same exact information - especially when it came to Veelas. What did people know about them? Not much more than was printed. What did they know about crossbreed Veelas? Practically nothing. There wasn't even much of a mention of the males of their kind within the writings she'd found.
What did they think? Pureblood Veelas just hatched out of eggs? Probably.
The young woman was beginning to think she was on her own when it came to figuring out what she and Laura were capable of. There were so many questions she had about what she was. What she could do. And while she knew that she'd promised Kent she'd help him if he helped her, she was getting impatient after the story from Vegas.
Had she helped cause that? Was she the reason that her coworker had gotten hitched to a No-Maj so quickly? Was she to blame for all the "festivities" she hadn't even gotten to indulge in herself? If she was, it would certainly figure, wouldn't it? Fate could be a tricksome, evil bitch at times.
Sighing, she ran her hands over her face, taking a breath behind her palms as she tried to gather her wits about her. Rory knew she was probably going to end up being a long night because she wasn't planning to stop until she found something worthwhile. At the rate this was going, it was just going to suck. So much so that she was tempted to just shove it all and go get drunk. There was a bar in town. Why the hell not?
Logic kicked back up not long after that thought, however. She couldn't just stop. There were too many unanswered questions. Too much of the unknown. Rory couldn't stand for that. Not when it had a direct correlation to who—to what—she was.